Put It On My Tab
by RosesSharon
Summary: After Sam is pinched by Group Cpt. Graeme in a public house, Foyle decides to have a word with him. Disclaimer: I do not own Foyle's War or the characters therein.


*Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Foyle's War or any of the characters therein. This story is for entertainment purposes only.  
Based on the episode Eagle Day.

 **Put It On My tab**

Sam was distraught. Humiliated. No, worse – she was disappointed in herself. Not only was her father forcing her to give up her new life in Hastings, she had failed to extract any information from Group Captain Graeme. His foul parting gesture had only confirmed, in her mind at least, how out-of-her-depth everything had become. As she walked back out to the Moseley she saw Mr. Foyle leaning back in his seat, his eyes fixed following her with that new expression in his eyes: an unexpected mixture of pride and amusement. She hadn't left the public house feeling the Ingrid Bergman-esque spy heroine she had hoped she would. If anything, she felt like a common tart.

'Of course,' she thought, miserably, his look of amusement taking on an unpleasant form in light of her disappointment. 'You saw this coming, didn't you?'

No, she reminded herself. He didn't know what had happened. How could he? It was strange, she didn't quite know how she would describe the encounter when he'd inevitably ask her for details. Being her boss and an undoubtably intimidating authority figure, she was certain mentioning her button to him would cross a line somewhere. Still, though she tried not to admit it to herself, she was curious to see how he'd react if she told him what Graeme had done.

No, she quickly decided. No, she wouldn't tell him what he'd done. After all, it wasn't even an important detail, even if his actions _had_ hurt her feelings. All that mattered were the facts, and there was only one worth mentioning – she had failed him.

Silently, she opened the car door and settled herself in the driver's seat, wishing she had never suggested going in in the first place. He was eager to share her experience and soon broke the silence.

"What happened?" he asked, before noticing her sour expression.

"I couldn't get anything out of him, sir. He rumbled me straight away," she said, her eyes downcast. She had tried to sound matter-of-fact about the whole thing, but she had forgotten who she was talking to. He wasn't falling for it. He saw something else in her eyes, and his concern was evident.

"What is it, are you alright?" he asked, looking slightly alarmed.

Wonderful. Now she _had_ to tell him. She felt sheepish and awkward all of a sudden as she tried to find a way of phrasing it.

'Actually, he... pinched me," she said, forcing herself not to look into his face.

He could hardly believe what he was hearing, and yet, somehow, he could. From the first time Sam had stepped into his office, he was aware of how attractive she was. So, when she had first suggested this plan he'd had his doubts – yes, Graeme might open up to a woman, she'd had a point, but did Sam know what she was opening herself up to? She might have known she was charming, but she was still inexperienced and vulnerable. Graeme, on the other hand...

But, she had made a good point and he knew how much this opportunity meant to her. He couldn't let her leave his service without earning her badge of honor first. And this was the result.

'He did _what?_ ' he asked, not wanting to believe it.

'You know,' Oh, the awkwardness was unbearable. 'Quite hard. It really hurt!" She saw his reflection in the windshield. He was clearly bothered and concerned and was thinking something through. She was strangely happy that he'd become so agitated by this. Clearly he respected and cared for her, and seeing that reminded her how much she loved this job.

'I'm going to have a word with him,' he said, already opening his door. She panicked, not wanting him to blow their cover - even if it had been blown already.

'No, don't. It would only confirm his suspicions anyway," she said, noting he still wasn't letting up on the door handle.

She tried to let her eyes do the talking (often, she found this could be more affective when communicating important matters with him). His eyes lowered for a moment, the gears in his mind working double-time. Then, he made up his mind.

Nnnope, I'm going anyway," he said suddenly. His lips narrowed and below his furrowed brow his eyes lifted to hers for a moment. He climbing out of the car and closing the door, all before she could think of something to say or do. As she watching him setting off at a brusque pace across the street an into the pub, she wondered what she should do, though she knew once Mr. Foyle had decided to do something, there was no one who could stop him. She immediately got out of the car and rushed in to see what would ensue.

Foyle walked up to Captain Graeme, his brow still furrowed, his gaze withering. Foyle immediately noticed how slipper this man looked. Yes, he certainly seemed the type to pinch a woman in a pub. Odious man.

He stepped up slowly beside him, not wanting to rush into a physical altercation if it might be avoided. He cleared his throat and caught the man's attention.

"You, erm, Group Captain Graeme?" he asked, trying to sound casual. Graeme fixed him with a look of disgust.

'And just why would you like to know that?' he asked, still holding his drink.

'Be-cause I'm wondering what kind of RAF captain would assault a woman in a public house while still in uniform. I thought you might be the sort of person who could answer that question,' he said, coolly.

Graeme scoffed, which bothered Foyle exceedingly.

'And I might just as easily wonder why a man out of uniform would feel the need to follow me into a pub and send in some young totty to coerce me into releasing confidential military information,' he said, taking another swig of his drink and looking quite pleased with himself.

As Graeme talked, Foyle's jaw clenched and he wondered just how much of this he could take. Unfortunately, Graeme continued.

'You know, the women I work with are generally around the same age as that pretty young thing. You're not offering me anything I couldn't get already - and with less charged to my tab, at that.' He gestured with his head toward the half-drunk glass of sherry beside him.

'Fine choice of uniform, however, that was a marvelous attention to detail. Not sure I believe it, come to think of it, she seemed a bit too soft for the MTC. Though, I suppose softness underneath the uniform does have it's own advantages.'

'Do you pinch the women you work with, as well?' Foyle asked, his blood swiftly boiling and Graeme had noticed.

'Of course not. Only when I'm off-duty,' he chuckled.

'I see," muttered Foyle, chewing the side of his cheek as he stared at the glass absentmindedly.

Yep, that was enough. Without thinking, Foyle had grabbed hold of Graeme by the wrists, kicked out his chair from under him and pinned him face-down on the bar. Graeme had undeniable height and muscle mass advantages over him, and Foyle wasn't prepared to let him leverage them. His glass fell to the floor, and though the barman had taken notice he knew better than to get involved.

'Now you listen here: Either you learn some respect, or I place a phone call to the Air Chief Marshal and tell him what sort of thing his officers are really getting up to in Hastings. I know you don't care about the reputations of others, but I'm damn sure you have a firm idea of what's good for you.'

Watching this unfold from beside the main door, Sam wondered if she should get involved. Still, there was something about the scene that made her want to laugh. Of all the times she had seen Mr. Foyle physically take down someone, this was without a doubt the most mild instigation yet. Even in times of great agitation and vehemence, he was not a violent man and only ever used force when absolutely necessary. Clearly his words were having no affect on Graeme.

Graeme's face grew red and he was clearly livid, but he knew who this man was. He and Wing Commander Keller had just been discussing the potential problems DCS Foyle might cause if he became unnecessarily involved in their opperations. Best, perhaps, to not provoke him too much.

'Fine!' he spat, fixing his eyes on Sam. 'I shouldn't have done that. Just let me go, will you? It won't happen again."

Foyle took a deep breath before releasing his hold on Graeme. When he did, Graeme pushed him backward before straightening his jacket.

He paused as he pulled open the door, glaring at Sam as she stood, shaken, in the shadows.

'Bloody cheek!" he snarled. He left.

Samm looked back at Mr. Foyle and saw he was suddenly quite wary. He looked as though he could use a stiff drink, and this was certainly the right place for it. But, he wouldn't hear of it, raising his hand against her every protest.

'I'm fine, Sam, truly," he said, his hand resting on her arm reassuringly. He noted the barman and apologized for the incident, showing his badge and assuring him it wouldn't happen again. The barman nodded, and for a moment Sam could have sworn he was hiding a smile as he finished cleaning out his glass.

Sam and Foyle didn't speak much as they drove back to the station. Sam wasn't sure what to say, and Foyle was slightly concerned at her silence. The fact that she would son be taking her leave of him and her job once they reached the station did not improve matters. Sensing this, Foyle attempted at small talk, referring to the state of the roads and the weather. Sam smiled and parroted his every word, and soon he gave up on his attempts.

Pulling up to the station, however, Sam knew she had to say something – though, the fact of the matter was she had a great many things she wanted to tell him. She wanted to tell him how much she had enjoyed her time in Hastings, how much she had learned from him and wished things didn't have to be like this. She wanted to stress how this job had become more than just a post, it had allowed her to work with some of the finest men in England – and he was the most important of all of them.

She did not say any of this, however, and settled for something subtler.

'Sir'

'Yes?'

She looked down for a moment as she fiddled with the brim of her cap.

'I just… wanted to thank you. For what you did for me.'

His eyes creased in that curious way of his, and he seemed suddenly sheepish.

'Nnnot at all," he said, his eyes returning to hers as he gave her one of his frowning smiles. Her stomach seemed to give a somersault as she realized she might be leaving at any moment.

'No one's ever really fought for me before. Of course, they've never really had to, but… Well, you know.'

His eyes became searching and he rested his hand on hers, stopping them mid-fidget. She was aware her eyes were filling with tears. She couldn't leave, she just couldn't! It was all just so unfair.  
She did not realize it, but Foyle shared her thoughts. He had tried to remain detached and professional for her sake, but when all was said and done he really didn't want to let her go. She had become a friend – and, though he had attempted to stamp it out, his feelings for her had quickly matured into something he hadn't experienced in quite a while.

At first he didn't say anything. He simply breathed deeply, feeling her cold hand beneath his and wishing he were a bolder, younger man. Yes, he had defended her from Graeme, but he felt certain he couldn't allow himself to act any further in accordance with these troublesome feelings. God forbid, if he went to far…

'Yes, I do,' he said finally, his voice hoarse.

She sniffed, and with his free hand he reached into his pocket and retrieved a handkerchief for her. She accepted it, half smiling to herself as she held it to her face.

"Naturally, he's so old-fashioned, why wouldn't he have on of these?" she thought.

He still held her hand as she took a deep breath and rested against the back of her seat. His eyes expressed concern, yet they were reassuring and kind. She loved those eyes.

'Best go in,' he said, though he made no move to leave the car. She nodded, wanting to hold his hand tighter.

Then, without warning, he lifted her hand to his lips and softly kissed it. He thought for a moment before smiling at her.

'Won't be the same without you, Sam," he said. She knew what he meant, but she took a moment wonder if he was talking about the work… or about himself. She hoped it was both.

'You should come visit us for Easter. If you're able,' she added breathlessly. He nodded, his crooked smile deepening as his eyes shone. God, this was torture!

'I will! Thank you."

They then got out of the car, both hoping against hope the other had meant what they'd said.


End file.
